


room for one more

by kpop-till-you-drop (gypsophilasscribbles)



Category: UP10TION
Genre: Alternate Universe - School, Boys Kissing, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Slow Burn, Teacher AU, jinhoo is a teacher, kogyeol is a handman, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9144991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsophilasscribbles/pseuds/kpop-till-you-drop
Summary: Jinhoo runs a day-care and Kogyeol is a handyman. There's awkwardness and fluffiness and kisses. that's it folks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back when Dangerous first came out. It's possibly the longest thing I've ever written and I'm quite proud of it, so I hope you all like it too!
> 
> WARNINGS: as mentioned in the tags there is talk of drug use, past addiction and recovery from drug addiction.  
> If you think I've missed any warnings please let me know!

Jinhoo likes his job. No, really – he does. So what, if he has to deal with the occasional spit-up stain on his shirt, or that one time Eunsang was so awed by his freshly bleached hair that she nearly pulled a chunk of it out (who knew such a little girl could pull so _hard_?).

He gets to play with the cutest toddlers in the whole of Seoul. Playing all day – that’s his job. “Pretty awesome, right?” he murmurs to himself as he tries to wipe a mysterious sticky stain off the kiddie-sized table; he relents with a defeated sigh when most of it ends up glued between the pads of his fingers. 

Since the last of his charges had been collected a few minutes ago, by parents weary from a long day’s work, he begins putting the small plastic chairs up on the tables so he can hoover when Sunyoul’s voice wafts in through the open door. “Hyung, um – we might, um, have a problem.” 

Jinhoo straightens. He turns and freezes when he sees Sunyoul hovering in the doorway, paint splattered on his clothes and face, dribbling down the bridge of his nose and onto his shirt. “Jeez, what happened to you?” he says, starting towards the younger, who grimaces as a bright yellow droplet nearly goes in his eye. 

As Jinhoo tries to scrub the quickly drying paint from his face, Sunyoul explains how the afternoons painting session had gotten a little out of hand. Jinhoo can sympathise; he’s been witness to more than one paint-war in his time running the day-care. 

Although a little shell-shocked, Sunyoul seems ok. He knew it had been a mistake to leave the younger to fend for himself with rowdy Class 2. But Gyujin had called in sick that morning, and Kuhn was hauled up in the office filling out the accounting reports – there was no one else to look after the kids; Sunyoul had been thrown in at the deep end. 

He had begun volunteering two months ago, as part of his college community service. They had jumped at the chance to have some free help, and Sunyoul was a sweet kid. He had a sunny personality and got on well with the kids. 

Usually, he was a sort of glorified cleaner; washing paint pots, disposing of empty milk cartons and, as his confidence had grown (which Jinhoo put down to his devoted tutelage) had begun reading to the kids before their afternoon nap. 

He couldn’t help feeling guilty. Class 2 was notorious for being a boisterous group of kids. Climbing cupboards, over-flowing the sink and attempting to set the bin on fire, Class 2 seemed to have the dangerous combination of too much curiosity and not enough common sense. 

He’s not surprised when Sunyoul launches into an account of paint flying across the room and Hongbin pouring glitter in HaNa’s hair and everyone screeching. There’s an odd feeling of pride welling in his chest, however, as Sunyoul describes how he calmed everyone down and managed to get them cleaned up before home-time. “Hyung, is looking after children always this hard?” Sunyoul says, flopping forlornly against Jinhoo’s shoulder. 

Jinhoo laughs, ruffling Sunyoul’s now paint free hair. “Not all the time. Now, what was this problem you were talking about?” 

Sunyoul straightens, biting his lip. “I think you’ll have to see for yourself…”

***

After a long and agitated phone call, the facilities manager politely tells them that it’s their problem. They had installed the locking mechanism in the door so it was their job to fix it. To be fair, when they had the lock installed there was no way to predict the sheer tenacity Minhyuk would show when trying to wedge his paintbrush into it. 

Kuhn is fuming, prowling about the small office like a caged tiger, ranting about the lack of responsibility and how he was going to sue their asses off. 

Sunyoul is absolutely rife with guilt and looks like he’s going to cry. Jinhoo wraps an arm around his shoulders and reassures him it’s not his fault – giving Kuhn a glare that has him quickly agreeing and declaring that the room needed refurbishing anyway. 

Jinhoo remembers how long it had taken them to save up for the special, state of the art locking doors that would only enable those with a lanyard to enter and leave the day-care. It was a great safety precaution considering the area they lived in and the kids dangerous habit of trying to run off. They’d had several escape attempts over the years, the record held by Seungcheol, who’d managed to get all the way into the lift before Jinhoo caught up with him. 

However, it turns out that once non-toxic kids play paint is introduced to the doors circuit board, the whole thing short circuits and ceases to work; smoking and sizzling quietly. 

Having sent a slightly less hysterical Sunyoul home, Kuhn and Jinhoo assess the damage. 

“We’ll have to close the day-care temporarily.” Jinhoo sighs. 

Kuhn is reluctant to agree, but he knows it’s a huge health and safety risk. They can’t afford a lawsuit. And even though Jinhoo loves the kids, he can easily name four of them who would be more than happy to jam their fingers into the open wires. 

“Okay, I think I know someone who can help us out,” Kuhn says finally. “I’ll give him a call and let you know what’s happening tomorrow.” 

Jinhoo doesn’t want to leave before he knows what will happen to his beloved day-care but he knows better than to hover when Kuhn is in thinking mode. He grabs his coat and heads out. 

***

Gyujin is thrilled when he hears the news. “Do you think Kuhn will really refurbish the room? We could get some better air conditioning? What about a TV? We can put on documentaries and stream Pororo.” He says, eyes sparkling. “Can you imagine; I could actually get some work done.” 

Jinhoo takes another sip of his beer. For a Saturday evening, the bar is fairly empty, but he supposes that it’s down to the torrential rain supposed to hit Seoul tonight; the weather appears to be reflecting his stormy mood. 

“Unlikely, we’ve hardly got any money. Kuhn’s getting some friend of his to come and fix the door at a discounted price but still, I don’t know how bad the damage to our resources is going to be.” 

His worries about money are not the only reason he’s craving a strong drink. Kuhn had called earlier and his message had only irritated Jinhoo more. 

Good news – his friend could come and fix the doors. Bad news – Jinhoo needed to let him in bright and early that Sunday. 

This change in schedule ruins his normal routine of getting wasted with Gyujin then ordering Chinese and watching crap TV untill he passes out. 

“let me know if I need to start looking for a new job,” Gyujin says, staring into his glass. He’s joking, but Jinhoo knows there’s a very real element of truth in what he says. They were lucky that such a highly-trained teacher was willing to work for such a low salary. Gyujin was collecting data for his research into childhood development, and the day-care was the perfect place to do observations. 

He was a good friend, even though his unwavering optimism tended to grate on Jinhoo’s own cynicism. 

“Well, we won’t know anything for certain until this friend of Kuhn’s has looked at it tomorrow. Although why he has to started so early I have no idea.” Jinhoo says bitterly, taking a large sip of his beer. 

“You never know,” Gyujin says, eyebrows wiggling suggestively, “maybe you and this guy will hit it off.” 

Jinhoo can only huff out a laugh in reply. His last relationship had been in collage, and all it had amounted to was some uncomfortable dry humping and the worst blow job he’d ever received. Sure, there’d been a couple of one night stands here and there, but Jinhoo’s dating experience was pitiful for a 25-year-old. 

Gyujin remains unconvinced at Jinhoo’s lack of enthusiasm. “Come on; you have been disgustingly single the entire time I’ve known you. You’re a good-looking guy; I don’t get it.” 

“Wow, thanks for the confidence booster.” 

“Don’t get your pants in a twist; it’s a compliment. Jinhoo, you spend all your time at the day-care, and I know it’s like your baby, but you’ve got to get out more.” 

Silently Jinhoo ponders the accusation. It’s true he loves the day-care; he and Kuhn built it up from scratch. And he loves all the kids that go there, even the ones that cause trouble and break stuff. Kuhn always scolds that he cares too much, that he gets too invested. 

Jinhoo thinks he’s right. 

He orders another two bottles of soju, distracting Gyujin from his questions. He’s not in the mood for a grilling about his non-existent social life. 

***

He manages to stumble home around one am. Gyujin had offered to pay for a cab, but he waved him off. The walk back is sobering; it leaves Jinhoo feeling prickly all over, still caught in the clutches of alcohol but coherency hovering close enough to prevent him taking any back alleys in the dark; being mugged would be a really shit way to end an already crappy week. 

The lift at his apartment complex is broken so he slowly climbs the stairs. It’s a little difficult since he’s beginning to feel drowsy and his body sways erratically but he fares alright clinging to the rusty handrail. The building is old, and starting to fall apart but the rent is cheap and Jinhoo’s no stranger to small apartments and the lingering smell of damp. 

When he enters the apartment, he can see the voicemail flashing. 

_“Hey bro, remember you’re meeting Kogyeol outside the day-care tomorrow at seven! Don’t get too drunk with Gyujin. Thanks again.”_

Jinhoo sighs. 

He sprawls out on the couch, too tired to stumble down the narrow hall to his bedroom. The prospect of not seeing his cute class members for a week is depressing, and what’s even more depressing is that wiping snot from beneath the noses of toddlers has become what he looks forward to in a week. 

Maybe Gyujin’s right, he thinks to himself as he drifts off, maybe I do need to get out more. 

***

It’s pissing with rain the next morning. Jinhoo walks to the day-care with his hood pulled low over his face and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hoodie is a poor substitute for a rain coat and clings uncomfortably to his skin, soaking up the rainwater like a towel. 

He’s already in a foul mood, having woken up with a thumping headache and mouth drier than the Sahara Desert. He couldn’t find any painkillers, the hot water hadn’t been working, and he’d lost his bus pass. 

When he finally arrives at the daycare, his shoes are waterlogged and squelching with every step, and he’s in a miserable mood. There’s a tall figure hovering outside the nursery door, holding a large, wonky umbrella. He walks a little closer before hesitantly calling out, “Kogyeol?” 

The tall figure turns, blinking down at Jinhoo. “Erm, yeah – that’s me.” He says after a second. “Jinhoo?” 

Jinhoo nods, unable to speak for his teeth chattering. His fingers are slippery and wet, and it takes him a few tries to jam the key into the lock and open the door. 

Once inside, Kogyeol closes his umbrella and Jinhoo gets to see his face. 

The front of his fringe is damp from the rain, and his long grey jumper has little droplets clinging to the wool. He’s carrying a large gym bag that Jinhoo assumes has tools in it. 

He wonders how Kuhn knows this guy; he looks young enough to be still in some kind of educational institution, but there’s a tiredness to his eyes Jinhoo recognises from his own reflection. 

“This is the room,” Jinhoo says, leading the way past the front desk to the classroom. 

Immediately after the painting incident he and Sunyoul had picked through the classroom and salvaged what they could; the kids work, some stuffed toys and puzzles. The chairs and tables had been washed and left stacked up in Class 1. Unfortunately, the bookshelf that Jinhoo had first bought for the day-care had taken a beating, and they had no choice but to dump it. 

“It marks a new start for the day-care.” Gyujin had told him the night before, after their third round of soju. “We’ll get a shiny new bookcase.” 

The lack of furniture meant that the classroom was oddly bare, and with the clouds rumbling ominously outside, also rather depressing. 

Kogyeol doesn’t seem to mind the gloomy atmosphere, nor does he seem to notice the sour look Jinhoo’s making, immediately inspecting the circuit board sticking out of the wall. “I’m gonna get started,” he says, not looking at Jinhoo, continuing to eye the cables. “Unless there’s anything I need to know?” 

Jinhoo’s more than happy to leave him to it. “Nope, knock yourself out. I’ll be next door.” 

He heads into the other classroom and slumps down against the table, trying to will away his headache. 

They’d turned off the electrics so Kogyeol could work, therefore the classroom is freezing. It doesn’t help that Jinhoo is drenched, he can barely feel his fingers. His nose begins to tingle; then he lets out an almighty sneeze. 

The sound echoes around the empty room followed by an eerie silence. 

Kogyeol appears at the door. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I just – ” he gets cut off by another sneeze. 

“Here,” Kogyeol says, shrugging off his jumper. “Wear this, or you’ll get sick.” 

“Oh, are you sure?” Jinhoo asks even as he accepts the soft jumper. It’s warm and smells like apple and cinnamon. It takes all Jinhoo’s willpower not to stick his face into the material and smell it. 

Kogyeol smiles. “It’s fine; I’ll get too hot. It suits you.” 

Jinhoo is a little taken back. “Oh, thanks.” 

Kogyeol’s still watching him as he puts on the jumper, nearly drowning in material. Kogyeol is a fair bit taller than he is but it’s cosy beneath the layers of fabric. 

“I’ll get back to work now,” Kogyeol says, with a friendly smile. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks again.” 

“It’s fine.” Kogyeol shrugs. 

***

Around midday, Jinhoo’s phone beeps, a message from Kuhn appearing on the screen. 

_Hey, wanna grab lunch? I’ll pay_

He’s tempted to ignore the message, but he knows this is Kuhn’s way of apologising and who in their right mind would turn down a free lunch? 

As he heads out, he pauses, going back to look into Class 2. 

Kogyeol’s been busy. There’s a large well-used dust mat spread across the floor, the gym bag opened and an array of tools laid out like instruments for a surgical procedure. Kogyeol has taken the door out of its frame and appears to be in the middle of dissecting it. 

Jinhoo watches him work, intrigued by the look of concentration on the other’s face. It’s kind of cute; he thinks; the way his nose scrunches up as he manoeuvres a delicate looking wire from underneath the other cables. 

Once Jinhoo is sure he’s not going to distract the other at a pivotal point in the operation, he pipes up, “Hey, I’m heading out for food – can I get you anything?” 

“Er, I’m alright. Thanks, though.” Kogyeol says with a bright smile before turning back to whatever it was he was doing. 

Jinhoo shrugs off the jumper and folds it, putting it down on a table a safe distance from where Kogyeol is working. 

“Are you sure, it’s still cold outside?” Kogyeol asks, glancing over. 

“I’m good now, but thanks.” 

***

Kuhn had discovered the Red Gecko Sandwich Company last winter when he’d gotten lost in the blizzard that had brought the whole of Seoul to a frozen standstill. It was a long and narrow shop, tucked between a real estate and an empty building with boarded up windows, and had quickly become one of Jinhoo’s favourite places. 

It’s furnished with solid oak tables and high-back leather armchairs – the soft kind that smell like old books and not synthetic plastic; there’s a large curving bookshelf that covers the back wall, where people can bring their old books or read something someone’s left there. 

Jinhoo steps inside, shutting out the heavy downpour behind him. Vivaldi's four seasons is playing softly from the speakers; Jinhoo can’t fault Wooshin’s impeccable taste in music. 

“Jinhoo!” Xiao exclaims, popping up from behind the counter, a tray of neatly packaged banquettes in his hands. The smell wafts towards Jinhoo and his stomach rumbles. 

Xiao giggles in a way that reminds Jinhoo of Sunyoul; the two of them must be around the same age and he briefly wonders if they go to the same university. “Kuhn’s sitting at the back with your usual.” 

Jinhoo nearly shivers in anticipation. “Thanks, and hey, I like your hair.” He says, noting the candyfloss pink curls that had not been there before. 

Xiao blushes. “After the whole hair dye incident I decided that if Wooshin was stuck with red, I could at least go pink.” 

“Ah, has he forgiven you for that yet?” Jinhoo inquires cautiously. 

Xiao starts placing the sandwiches in the display case with deliberate slowness. “He’s not ignoring me anymore.” He finally mumbles. 

Jinhoo knows the older male won’t be able to stay mad for long, especially with how cute Xiao’s sulking face was. Though his quiet demeanour made him appear cold, Wooshin was a big softie – especially when it came to his boyfriend. 

“I’m sure things will be sorted out soon.” He says comfortingly. 

With a tight smile, Xiao disappears back into the kitchen. Through the open door, Jinhoo spies Wooshin preparing the next batch of toasted sandwiches. As Xiao creeps past him, he subtly glances up, gazing at the pink haired youth. Jinhoo smiles to himself; they’d be just fine. 

He spots Kuhn sitting right at the back, his head visible over the high back of the chair. Jinhoo slumps in the chair opposite, a sudden sleepiness falling over him. 

Kuhn pauses, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Hey, how’s the repairs going?” 

Jinhoo shrugs. “It’s happening; I don’t know the intimate details.” 

“Really? I thought you’d be watching everything with a beady eye.” Kuhn snorts. 

Jinhoo stares mournfully at his sandwich. “Am I really that bad?” 

“Yes,” Kuhn says without hesitation. “What did you think of Kogyeol?” 

Jinhoo hums, thinking back to the lofty smile and warm jumper. “He’s… _nice_. How do you know him anyway?” 

Kuhn finished chewing, a thoughtful look on his face. “We were on swim team together in high school. I haven’t seen him since he left rehab.” 

“Rehab?” Jinhoo chokes. “What do you mean rehab?” 

“Calm down Jinhoo,” Kuhn says, in a carefully neutral voice. “The day-care is in good hands.” 

Jinhoo is tempted to protest, but Kuhn is giving him that serious look that he uses when he’s scolding a toddler and he does not appreciate it. “Kogyeol is a good friend who’s trying to get back on his feet after a difficult time. He’s hard-working, trustworthy and quite frankly our only option. I’ve finished going through the accounts and – it’s not looking good.” 

Jinhoo’s stomach sinks; he suddenly doesn’t feel so hungry anymore. The day-care was always struggling for money; it was a given, but Jinhoo had never seen Kuhn looking so ominous about it. 

“It looks like we’ll be able to pay for the repairs thanks to Kogyeol, but it’s put a serious dent in our already dwindling budget. We have to hope that we have a boom in clients before we have to pay the next rent instalment or else…” he trails off. 

Jinhoo allows himself to sink further into his chair. The already gloomy day feels ten times gloomier now. To the best of his ability, he rallies his spirits. “We can’t give up yet. We’ll manage it somehow, we always do.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Gyujin,” Kuhn grimaces. “He’s rubbing off on you.” 

***

When Jinhoo wakes up on Monday morning, the rain has reduced to a steady drizzle. 

He watches the raindrops trickle down the dirty bus window, thinking about when it rained during break time, and he’d get the kids to guess which droplet would ‘win the race’. They’d get so excited when the one they picked won – Jinhoo could picture their smiling faces. 

There’s a painful clench in his chest when he thinks about his kids. Where will they go if the day-care has to close? He brushes away that trail of thought. They’d figure out something. 

Kogyeol is waiting for him in the same place, with the same warm smile and the same tatty umbrella. Jinhoo musters up a smile and unlocks the doors. 

He hangs around in the corridor long enough to see Kogyeol unload a tin-sized stereo, turn it on and begin humming tunefully along, before heading into the other classroom. 

It feels so desperately empty without the giddy laughter of his class members. He wonders when he became so fucking broody. 

He remembers when he’d first managed to secure the space for renting. It was dark and dim, and there were patches of damp everywhere, but he’d seen what it could be. 

Kuhn always said that Jinhoo was too much of a dreamer, that he puts his faith in too much, but Jinhoo disagrees. He just knows first-hand how far determination and sheer will can take you. 

He’d scrubbed the floors, fitted the carpets, painted the walls, replaced the cracked windows and dim, flickering lights. 

Now the walls were covered in artwork from his kids; the windows adorned with mini stained-glass windows made with recycled Quality Street wrappers. 

They’d turned a dismal, bleak office floor into a place of colour, and joy in a few short years; he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost this one bright element of his life. 

The preppy sound of Girl’s Generation drags Jinhoo from his depressing trip down memory lane. 

Peering into the other room, Jinhoo stifles his laughter behind his hand. Kogyeol is loudly singing along to Genie, bopping to the music as he rummages through his tool box. He spins and freezes, spotting Jinhoo. 

A blush spreads across his cheeks. “Uh, hey?” he stammers. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Jinhoo smiles. “I was just wondering how things were going?” 

Kogyeol scratches his head, still embarrassed. There’s an adorable rosiness lingering on cheeks as he begins speaking. “It’s coming along. I’m going to replace the switch board and maybe replace the router, but I’ll only do that if I can’t solder the electrical link back in place.” 

Jinhoo stares blankly at him. 

Kogyeol chuckles. “In short, it’s going fine. I was thinking that, once I’ve sorted the electrics, I could fill the gaps up with sealant – to stop paint and such from going in again?” 

“That sounds like a really good idea,” Jinhoo smiles, then remembers. “But, won’t that cost extra?” 

Kogyeol shakes his head. “Oh, no, of course not. I’m doing this as a favour; it’s just part of the service.” He smiles. 

He had a really pretty smile, Jinhoo notes, the kind of smile that makes the room around you feel brighter. He regards Kogyeol with a new open-mindedness. It was always really annoying to admit when Kuhn was right about something, but Kogyeol did seem like a good guy. 

As Jinhoo leaves him to his work he can’t help wondering what Kogyeol was in rehab for, he didn’t look like someone with an addiction. Jinhoo mentally scolds himself; he was not going to make a habit of judging people. If Kuhn trusted him, Jinhoo would trust him too. 

***

The next day remains overcast, the charcoal grey clouds scarring the skyline; Jinhoo misses seeing the sun, but at least it’s not raining. 

Kogyeol is waiting for him outside the centre, this time wearing an oversized hoodie. As he unlocks the door, Jinhoo wonders what Kogyeol is hiding beneath all this long, loose clothing. He quickly shakes away that line of thought because _wow, weird_.

No longer than an hour or so after they arrive, Jinhoo hears a loud clang, followed by a sharp exclamation of, “ _shit - fuck._ ”

Frowning, he goes to investigate. 

What he discovers is Kogyeol clutching his fingers, blood oozing from a long graze. “Ow.” He says dejectedly, an endearing pout on his lips. 

“Let me see,” Jinhoo says, beckoning Kogyeol closer. He takes Kogyeol’s hand, marvelling at how large it is compared to his own. “That’s pretty nasty, you might need stitches.” 

Kogyeol looks horrified. “No, it’s fine, really, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” 

Jinhoo regards him with a stern look. “Really, you should go to A and E. I could take you now?” 

“No, no – no hospitals. I swear it’s fine.” 

Kogyeol looks so terrified at the mention of hospitals that Jinhoo decides to let it go, despite it being stupid. He pursues his lips in a firm line. “Fine, but let me at the very least put a band aid on it. It’ll take two seconds,” then when Kogyeol still looks hesitant, he continues in a softer voice. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

They sit cross-legged on the dirty dust-cover, first aid kit open at Jinhoo’s side. Kogyeol hisses as Jinhoo dabs the antiseptic against the cut, clenching his hand. But true to his word, Jinhoo is gentle, his fingers nimbly cleaning and dressing the wound. “Hope you don’t mind Disney.” He jokes, sticking a rather garish mickey mouse plaster around Kogyeol’s finger. 

Kogyeol smiles, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “I’m sure I’ll cope. Thank you.” 

“It’s not a problem,” Jinhoo reassures him. “Not a big fan of hospitals?” 

Kogyeol shakes his head. “Nope. Just makes me think of death… and really big needles.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jinhoo closed up the first aid box. “fair enough, everyone has their phobias, but you really should go and get that looked at – please?” 

Kogyeol fixes Jinhoo with a curious look before nodding thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll go this afternoon. But only because you asked so nicely.” 

***

The news in the morning predicts thunderstorms but the skies remain clear all day. Jinhoo spends the morning anxiously watching the sky for signs of lightning but eventually migrates into Class 2, distracting himself with Kogyeol’s sweet singing to various K-pop tunes and cheery conversation. 

He notices that Kogyeol is sporting a thick wad of gauze on his finger and smiles to himself, happy that the other had taken his advice and gone to the hospital. 

It’s only as they’re heading out that afternoon that the skies suddenly burst. Thunder claps and lightning illuminates the room, a shocked yelp escaping Jinhoo’s lips as he presses himself up against the wall. 

“Hey, you alright?” Kogyeol’s voice is soft and calm, rumbling over the thunder. 

Jinhoo nods shakily. “Yeah, sorry I – I don’t like lightening.” 

Kogyeol glances through the window as the raging sky. “Are you gonna be able to get home okay?” 

Gulping, Jinhoo clamps his eyes shut as he imagines having to wait for the bus with the sky flashing erratically; he shudders. 

“I can give you a lift, if – if you want?” Kogyeol offers timidly. 

Jinhoo wants to kiss him. “Really?” 

Kogyeol laughs. “Of course, no worries. I’m parked just around the corner.” 

It turns out, Kogyeol drives a caravan. Or more correctly, Kogyeol lives in a caravan, which he also drives. 

This guy gets more interesting with every moment; Jinhoo thinks as he puts on his seat belt. Kogyeol seems embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about the mess, I – I don’t usually have guests.” 

It’s cute; Jinhoo thinks because the caravan is way tidier than his apartment. Fraying posters adorn the walls, and the windows were covered in faded stickers. He notices some sort of medal hanging by the bed, which is fitted with ill-matched blue and pink covers. It’s a small glimpse into the life of someone who Jinhoo is finding increasingly intriguing. 

“It’s fine, thank you, again, for offering to drive me.” 

It’s strange because even though the thunder still rumbles above them, inside the warmth of the caravan, Jinhoo doesn’t feel that scared anymore. 

“So, thunderstorms?” Kogyeol asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I spent a lot of time home alone when I was little… I never really got over my fear of them.” 

“That sucks, your parents work a lot?” 

“Yeah, full time, so – it wasn’t their fault. I’m grateful for all the time they put into feeding and clothing me but – ” 

“I get it,” Kogyeol says with a knowing smile. “It was the same with my mum, I hardly saw her growing up. Didn’t mean I loved her any less.” 

He notices the way Kogyeol trips over the word mum, seeming to blank out for a moment. 

“Just your mum?” he asks cautiously, wondering if that’s what troubling the other. 

But Kogyeol doesn’t appear bothered by this line of questioning. “Yeah, dad left pretty early on.” 

“Wow, I’m sorry,” Jinhoo says. 

Kogyeol shrugs it off. “It’s not something to feel sorry for. Just the way it is.” 

“Are you and you’re mum quite close?” he asks. 

Kogyeol gets very quiet. “We used to be.” He says, ever so softly. 

As desperate as is he is to uncover Kogyeol’s past, Jinhoo hates the gloomy expression now on his face. He glances outside, looking for anything he could use to change the subject. At that moment, they drive past an RSPCA centre. 

“So, do you like puppies more or kittens?” 

After a long discussion about which is better, kittens (Kogyeol) or puppies (Jinhoo), they arrive at Jinhoo’s apartment block. 

They sky is still rumbling angrily and Jinhoo finds himself baulking at the thought of sitting home alone. He turns to Kogyeol. “Do you want to come in, for a drink or something?” 

Kogyeol pauses, “you got Soda?” and, at Jinhoo’s nod, smiles. “Sure, why not.” 

***

“You don’t drink then?” Jinhoo asks, routeing through his little fridge. He can hear Kogyeol behind him slumping into the couch. Part of him is embarrassed at the messy state his apartments in, but a far larger part is thinking about how good Kogyeol looks lounging on his sofa; He looks like a giant in Jinhoo’s tiny living room. 

Kogyeol takes the bottle gratefully. “No, not since high school.” 

“Speaking of high school,” Jinhoo says. “Kuhn said the two of you were on swim team together?” 

“Yeah – I – yeah we were. How did you two meet?” 

Jinhoo smiles. “I had just bought the floor for the day-care and was pretty much drowning in debt. He offered to help me out for a cheaper rate, and we hit it off.” 

“Sounds like Kuhn, he’s got a hero complex,” Kogyeol says with a rueful smile. “always trying to fix things. So, do you own the day-care?” 

“Co-own, me and Kuhn are business partners now.” 

“What’s the story there then, what made you think – day-care?” 

Jinhoo chuckles. “Call it a pipe dream.” 

Ah, I see.” 

“What about you then? Always wanted to be a handy-man?” 

“Um, no. I was going to swim professionally.” 

“Seriously? That’s amazing.” 

“Yeah, I was on track to be in the Olympics. But, hey roads untraveled, right?” 

Jinhoo senses he’s treading on delicate ground. “Kuhn also mentioned… you had just got out of rehab?” 

He feels Kogyeol tense beside him and quickly continues. “He didn’t tell me anything and you don’t have to either. I was just curious…”

Kogyeol sighs, staring into the bottle of Soda. “It’s a disgustingly cliché story. I was a stupid teenager; drunk on my own arrogance. I fell into the wrong crowd, made some pretty huge mistakes.” 

Jinhoo frowns. “How huge?” 

“I overdosed.” Kogyeol admits quietly. “Ended up in hospital having my stomach pumped. Then everyone found out about the drugs and they kicked me off the team - banned me from competing. My mum could barely look at me; she was so disappointed. So, I discharged myself and took off. Pretty stupid right?” 

“You were just a kid.” 

“I should have known better,” Kogyeol sighs, staring into his soda. “all it led to was more drugs.” 

Jinhoo sits quietly, digesting the information he’s being given. “And that’s when you checked into rehab?” 

“Yeah. When I got out, Kuhn was the only person willing to help me get back on my feet. I… I had made a mess of things but, I’m trying to fix it now.” 

Kogyeol looked up, a kind of fiery determination burning behind his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t give up,” Jinhoo says, tentatively reaching out to squeeze Kogyeol’s hand. It was rough and calloused, a bit like Kogyeol himself. “If I’ve learnt anything it’s that you should never give up.” 

Kogyeol looks at him intently, nodding to go on. “Like I said before, when I was little my parents weren’t around much, work and such, so I spent a lot of time at home. When I was really small, the lady next door would keep an eye on me, but when I got older, and my parents couldn’t afford nursery I just stayed home on my own. I didn’t have friends.” He admits quietly. “I decided that, when I was older, I’d make a place for kids like me to go, so they’d never feel as alone as I’d felt. It was hard, and money was tight, but I never gave up on that dream.” 

“You know you’re not alone now, don’t you?” Kogyeol says, his voice softer than it had ever been before, sending a shiver up Jinhoo’s spine. “You have your kids, and Kuhn and that Gyujin guy… and me?” 

Jinhoo can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah, I know. And you know that you’ve got us now too.” 

Kogyeol smiles and the warmth spreads from Jinhoo’s cheeks, down his neck and settles in the cavity in his chest he’d long grown used to. 

“You’re different,” Kogyeol says. 

Jinhoo blushes. “what do you mean?” 

“I don’t know. You’re, just something new.” 

***

“You’re telling me, you had this amazing, gorgeous guy in your house, at night, bearing your souls to one another – and he slept on your couch.” 

Jinhoo snorts. “I wasn’t going to jump the poor guy; that was the first time I’d thought of him – _like that_.”

“I think it’s sweet hyung,” Sunyoul adds helpfully. Jinhoo smiles and ruffles the younger’s hair. 

Kogyeol had stayed the night, sleeping on Jinhoo’s sofa. He longs legs hanging off the arm rest. When Jinhoo woke in the morning, Kogyeol had made tea and toast. It was weirdly domestic and Jinhoo found himself enjoying it. 

Jinhoo had left him reassembling the door, shy smiles and hot cheeks making him feel like a fucking teenager again. 

Gyujin, Sunyoul and himself met at the park, the sun shyly peeking out from behind lingering grey clouds that were quickly being swept south by a mild breeze. 

He squinted as a sunray fell across his face, nearly missing the mischievous look shared between his friends. 

“I think we should meet him.” 

Sunyoul giggled. “I think you’re right hyung.” 

“for safety reasons.” 

“Of course,” Sunyoul agrees, nodding eagerly. 

Jinhoo sighs despairingly. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

***

“Hey,” Jinhoo starts, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He’d been fidgeting ever since he’d arrived back from meeting Gyujin and Sunyoul. What if Kogyeol said no? or worse, what if he said yes? 

“Do you wanna come hang out, you know once you’re done here?” 

“As long as it’s not a bar, sure why not?” 

“No, it’s a kind of café. Um, a couple of other guys who work here are gonna be there - as well as Kuhn.” 

At this Kogyeol smiles. “Yeah, sounds like fun.” 

“Great,” Jinhoo says, “I’ll let them know.” 

He leaves the room and groans. It’s going to be a really long night. 

***

The walk from the day-care to Red-Gecko is not far and conversation between the two of them isn’t difficult to maintain. Their hands brush several times in the duration of the journey, but neither of them mentions it or moves away. 

Kuhn, Gyujin and Sunyoul are waiting for them inside and Xiao gives a shy wave from the counter as they go past, looking at Kogyeol with curiosity. 

Kuhn is the first to see them. “Kogyeol,” he all but yells, standing to embrace him. “it’s been too long.” 

“It really has,” Kogyeol replies as they pull apart. 

Jinhoo sits himself in the empty seat next to Sunyoul, but the younger isn’t looking at him. Jinhoo shakes his head in dismay as both Sunyoul and Kogyeol gawp up at Kogyeol. He can see the metaphorical heart-eyes. 

“These are our co-workers, Sunyoul and Gyujin.” He reluctantly introduces. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Gyujin says, still eyeing Kogyeol with interest. “It’s not often Jinhoo makes a new friend.” 

“Yes, the day-care is number one in Jinhoo’s life.” Kuhn teases. 

Jinhoo decides replying would only encourage them, so instead he directs a stony glare across the table. 

Kogyeol, who’d been watching quietly, suddenly speaks up. “I find that kind of passion quite attractive actually.” 

Sunyoul pokes Jinhoo in the side and gives him a conspiratorial wink; Jinhoo only just manages to stop himself from sliding underneath the table to hide. 

They end up staying far later than Jinhoo had expected, Kuhn and Kogyeol having plenty to catch up on. By the time they five of them leave it’s dark outside. 

Kogyeol offers to give Jinhoo a lift home so they say their goodbyes to the others outside the café. Gyujin pulls him to the side, murmuring, “You know, you look really happy when you’re with Kogyeol. It’s – it’s nice to see.” 

He then walks back to the main group where Kuhn and Kogyeol are chatting. 

“Seriously, don’t be a stranger.” Kuhn is telling Kogyeol sternly. 

“I won’t. I’m planning on sticking around here for a while.” Kogyeol says, glancing towards Jinhoo with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. 

It’s not until much later, long after Kogyeol has left him outside his apartment door, the heat from their fingers brushing as they walked together still lingering, that the fluttering in Jinhoo’s chest finally quietens down. 

Staring into the vast darkness in his apartment he remembers what it looked like when Kogyeol had been there, cluttering the space with his long limbs and sunny smile. 

His mind, beginning to become hazy with sleep, wonders if the bed wouldn’t feel so cold if Kogyeol was there beside him and how it would feel to be held securely against the width of his chest. 

***

He’s sure that the gods are out to get him. 

With the sun shining hot in the sky, and the day-care currently without working air conditioning, Kogyeol has decided the best way to deal with the heat is by stripping off. 

As much as he tries Jinhoo cannot stop himself from gazing at the other’s naked upper-half. 

Kogyeol wasn’t muscular in build, but he was tall and lean with some tone to his stomach. It was his arms that caught Jinhoo’s attention. Taut, sleek muscle and broad shoulders, probably built-up from lifting heavy objects and a childhood spent swimming. 

Jinhoo nearly drools. 

He decides the best course of action is to open the windows and let some air in, maybe cool the room down enough for Kogyeol to put his shirt back on. 

However, an unfortunate side-effect of Kogyeol’s partial nakedness is Jinhoo’s sudden inability to control his limbs. The dust-sheet tangles around his ankles bringing him toppling to the ground. 

Kogyeol tries to grab him but just topples over too. 

They end up sprawled out on the floor; Jinhoo trapped beneath Kogyeol, their faces inches apart; noses nearly touching. 

“Hi,” Kogyeol says grinning cheekily. 

“Hi,” Jinhoo replies, feeling a strange heat spread through his body. 

Laughing, they de-tangle their limbs and sit up. 

Jinhoo knows his face must be redder than a tomato; he hides behind his hands and stammers, “Sorry, I – I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

Kogyeol laughs brightly, the sound doing strange things to Jinhoo’s heart. “It’s fine – wait,” he stops mid-sentence, staring intensely at Jinhoo’s face. 

His thumb swipes gently against Jinhoo’s forehead, and when he removes it there’s a spot of blood smudged on the skin. “Hold on.” Kogyeol tells him, getting up and returning with the first aid kit. 

The irony is not lost on Jinhoo as Kogyeol cleans up the small cut just above his eyebrow. Kogyeol smiles at him with a mischievous grin. “I hope you don’t mind Disney?” he says, holding up a plaster. 

Jinhoo rolls his eyes and pretends not to notice how sweaty his palms have become. 

***

The daycare reopens on Monday. 

Jinhoo’s charges are excited to see him, clambering all over him and eager to explore the day-care again. 

By lunch time there’s crayon on the walls and paint splattered on the table; everything is starting to feel alright again. 

As he and Sunyoul hand out the milk cartons for the kids’ pre-nap snack, Kuhn appears at the door. 

“You’ve got a visitor waiting in reception.” Is all he’s told. 

He’s thrown when he sees a gangly figure awkwardly hovering in the entrance way. 

“Um, hi?” Kogyeol says, “is this a bad time, I just – um…”

“No, it’s – it’s fine,” Jinhoo assures him. 

Kogyeol takes a deep breath. “I was just, um, just wondering … maybe, you…” he trails off and appears to lose all confidence. “Had seen my wrench?” 

Jinhoo is rendered speechless, mutely shaking his head. 

With a sigh, Kogyeol turns on his heel and marches out, leaving Jinhoo to watch forlornly after him; feeling both confused, and a little heartbroken. 

Kogyeol pops in several times in the follow weeks, with the excuse of checking that the door is still working, or to see if he’s left something somewhere. 

One two occasions he offers to fix miscellaneous things around the day-care; Kuhn, being the thrifty creature that he is immediately takes him up on this offer and Jinhoo is forced to spend the day pretending he’s not staring at Kogyeol. 

“Jinhoo,” Taehyung asks on day. “Is that your boyfriend?” 

Jinhoo nearly chokes on his own spit. “What makes you think that?” He asks, voice strained. 

“well,” Taehyung says, climbing into Jinhoo’s vacant lap. “You’re always staring at each other and smiling, and sometimes blushing.” 

“My sister has a boyfriend,” Jimin adds, appearing at Jinhoo’s side. “and they do that all the time.” 

One or two other children nod and make noises of agreement with this statement. 

“So?” Taehyung prompts, “Is he your boyfriend?” 

Jinhoo sighs, shaking his head. “No, Kogyeol is – he’s a friend.” 

Taehyung looks disappointed, climbing off Jinhoo’s lap with a pout. “I think you should be boyfriends.” He says, before running off the play dress-up with Jimin and Sungjae. 

Jinhoo can’t quite believe the conversation he’s just been part of. He has to be more careful with the way he acts around Kogyeol, especially in front of the kids, he decides. 

***

He throws himself into his work, as he always has done when dealing with personal crisis. It’s also an effective method of avoiding Kogyeol – as it’s difficult to flirt with someone where there’s a child clinging to your leg and someone screaming about having glue stuck to their fingers. 

To top things off, on Saturday an almighty thunderstorm hits Seoul. Jinhoo goes around turning off all his electronics and hides beneath the duvet, desperately trying to block of the rumbling skies. 

The clattering sounds so close, like it’s inside his apartment; He then realises that it’s not just thunder - someone’s banging on his door. 

He cautiously opens it to see a soaking wet Kogyeol, dripping water into the hallway. 

“What – ” Jinhoo starts but comes to a stop, completely speechless. 

“There’s lightning.” Kogyeol pants, as if this explains things. He’s breathing hard, his chest expanding and compressing, causing the wet material plastered to his muscular frame to strain; Jinhoo gulps. 

“I didn’t want you to be scared.” 

Jinhoo heart is hammering against his chest, and this time, it has nothing to do with the thunder. 

“Come in,” he says, taking hold of Kogyeol’s cold hand. “Before you catch a chill.” 

There’s something about Kogyeol’s tall figure dripping water onto Jinhoo’s hallway floor that’s rather hilarious, but Jinhoo is too frantic to laugh. 

“Here,” he practically throws the towel at Kogyeol’s face. He starts bustling around his draws, looking anywhere except Kogyeol. “I probably have a t-shirt that will fit you, but I don’t think I have any pants…” he trails off, finally looking at Kogyeol. 

The damp t-shirt lies discarded on the floor. The wetness on Kogyeol’s skin gleams in the dim lighting, the bumps and ridges of his muscular chest like an oil painting. His damp fringe falls across his eyes just like it had on that first day, but there was no uncertainty in his gaze this time. 

“Jinhoo.” He says, then with purposeful steps, he moves towards him, like a wild cat stalking its prey. 

Jinhoo feels his back press against the rough plaster wall, Kogyeol standing in front of him, the heat from his body radiating across the minuscule space between them. 

Kogyeol’s eyes look like pools of molten copper, so open and vulnerable. His head tilts, breath skimming across Jinhoo’s face. “Can I – ” 

“Yes,” Jinhoo blurts, starting forward to capture Kogyeol’s lips. 

Jinhoo hadn’t kissed anyone in years, but his memory serves him well enough that his finger’s tangle themselves in Kogyeol’s dark locks, tugging as he feels Kogyeol’s tongue exploring his mouth. 

Large hands rest firmly against his waist, pulling him against the hard planes of Kogyeol’s body; they slot together like pieces of a puzzle; moulding to each other in a way Jinhoo never had with anyone before. 

He gasps when Kogyeol’s hands slide lower to smooth over the curve of his ass. A half moan – half squeal escapes his mouth when Kogyeol’s suddenly lifts him, his legs wrapping securely around the taller man’s waist. 

“Oh _fuck_.” Kogyeol breaths against his neck, sucking a bruise just beneath Jinhoo’s jaw line. 

Jinhoo’s breath catches in his throat as he feels the tightening heat spreading between his legs. 

However, before things go any further, Kogyeol stumbles over a cluster of binders on the floor, and the pair of them topple onto the couch, a disarray of arms and legs. 

There’s a short silence before the pair dissolves into a fit of giggles. 

“So,” Jinhoo finally says through his stifled laughter. 

“So,” Kogyeol echoes. 

“This… this is a thing?” Jinhoo asks, uncertainly. 

“Yeah – I’d like it to be.” 

***

Friday rolls around again, and Jinhoo is midway through the stacking plastic chairs on tiny plastic tables when there’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Sunyoul, looking unusually smug. 

“You’ve got a visitor hyung.” 

Jinhoo shakes his head when he hears Gyujin wolf whistle from the other room. 

Kogyeol’s waiting at the entrance, leaning against the wall like the lead of some rom-com; it makes Jinhoo’s heart flutter embarrassingly. 

He smiles when he spots Jinhoo. “Hey, you ready to go?” 

“Yeah,” he says shyly, allowing Kogyeol to entwine their fingers. “Let’s go.” 

Jinhoo loves his job. He loves his co-workers. He loves his kids. And maybe there was room in his heart for one more person. 


End file.
